We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis
by xSuperxNinjaxBunnyx
Summary: Alfred and Matt live with their uncle. One day, he comes home with a boy named Arthur. Just who is this boy and why is he here? And what is this feeling that Alfred has? Strong T, kidnapping and child abuse. Based on the short story "We Don't Talk About Sarah"
1. Who's That?

**Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah**

**Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse**

**Hello people of Fanfiction! I should be working on one of my other fics shouldn't I? Probably. I should also be doing that summer work though too...**

**Just short chapters for this one, usually under 1,000 words. Chapters may get longer in future.**

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**We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis**

**Chapter 1: Who's That?**

**Alfred: 11 ~~ Matthew: 11 ~~ Arthur: 11**

**Point of View: Alfred**

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For an eleven year old boy, it was odd that I lived with my uncle and brother instead of my parents. I had brought the issue up once or twice but instead of an answer, Uncle Francis would just look down and quickly scold me for talking about it. Eventually, I stopped asking seeing that I would get no answers. That was only one of the conflicts between us. I had always been big on asking questions, always wondering why. I asked why he wasn't married and why he didn't have any children of his own. But I didn't get answers to those either, not that I expected to.

It must have been the end of summer. School was about to start up again and Mattie and me where out back enjoying the last bits of summer by chasing each other with the hose and jumping through the sprinkler. Uncle Francis had run out to get something for dinner but promised to return soon. We could hear the front door close signaling his return.

"Alfred, Matthew!" He called, "I have a surprise for you!"

Needless to say, we headed inside as if our lives depended on it, hoping for the candy bars that he sometimes brought back. It came as a shock when we saw a boy standing painfully still in front of him. Mattie shot him a questioning look while I was more focused on the possible new friend. He seemed nervous, his eyes darted all around but avoiding contact with any of us. Sweat drops covered his temple and ran down skin so pale it appeared as if he had never seen the sun.

"He's going to be staying here with us for a while." Our uncle explained, "Why don't you introduce yourself?"

He drew in a shaky breath. "A-Arthur, my n-name is Arthur K-Kirkland." He paused only to flinch and step forward slightly. His green eyes flew open as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "I-It's a p-pleasure to meet a-all of y-you." His words were rushed.

I bounded forward slamming into him and wrapping my arms around him. "My name's Alfred." I declared loudly, missing the squeak he emitted and the way he tensed before cautiously putting his arms around me as well.

"And that's Mattie!" I pointed to my brother who gave a shy wave.

Arthur waved back. He let go of me suddenly.

"How about we get these into the kitchen?" uncle suggested pointing to the bags on the floor.

I grabbed as many of them as I could. "This looks like a job for a hero!" I exclaimed running into the kitchen.

"Hero…" I didn't hear Arthur mutter under his breath nor did I notice his eyes fixated on the back of my head.

**Next 3 chapters in a bit. Have to upload them first :)**

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	2. What's Going to Happen?

**Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah**

**Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse**

**Here's another chapter because I love all of you so much!**

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**We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis**

**Chapter 2: What's Going to Happen?**

**Alfred: 11 ~~ Matthew: 11 ~~ Arthur: 11**

**Point of View: Arthur**

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I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that stupid frog. Who does he think he is, coming up to me like that and flashing a bit of the gun he concealed carefully in his pocket? I didn't have much of a choice but to go with him, now did I? I wasn't in the mood to be shot. Where were the police when you needed? All these thoughts swam through my head as I sat on a chair in the corner of the room while the long haired blonde cooked. The two other children had gone outside, I could see them playing with water through the window.

"Not thinking about leaving are you?" he asked, smile fox like and eyes narrow.

I only looked away, refusing to talk to him.

"Now don't be like that." He mocked a pout. "We should at least be hospitable to one another. You're going to be here for a long time anyway."

I snorted, pushing my abnormally large eyebrows together. "Like hell I will." I growled.

I regret it.

My head slammed against the wall. The chair forgotten lying sideways on the floor. A tight fist pulling at my hair. I grimaced in pain but muster up the will to glare at the French bastard.

"You will behave."

"Never."

I found myself being dragged through the house by my short light blonde hair. I kicked and shouted only for him to pull harder. I was shoved through an open door. My instinctive thoughts of landing on floor crushed when my body met the wood of steps. I cried out in pain, finally landing on a cold cement floor. I barely had enough time to see the door close. The French man and the light that came in for the house gone. I pushed myself up slowly, wincing at the pain as I touched a wet spot on my forehead. I looked away quickly, wiping the red liquid on my pants as I looked around. It was empty for the most part, a pole in the middle of the room and a filthy window that I could neither reach nor go through on the opposite wall.

I searched the room, looking for any sort of weapon or tool I could use to escape. Was my family looking for me? I wondered. Probably not. Scott probably went out for drinks as soon as he realized that I was no longer with him. The git never had liked me, always took the chances to beat me up whenever our parents were absent.

Tears welled in my eyes. I'd never see them again. Maybe I wouldn't live a week. Who knew what that creep had in store for me? The other children seemed to trust him enough. Perhaps, if I got close to them, my chances of escape would be greater. I had to try, it was my only option.

It seemed like hours had passed by without seeing anyone. My stomach growled, pleading for food. When I heard the door open, I bolted into the nearest and darkest corner.

"Arthur," the French voice filled the quiet room. I shivered in fear quickly pressing myself against the wall as much as I could with each step he took.

As luck would have it, my stomach chose that time to let out a long low growl. The man turned in my direction meeting my large green eyes.

"Please don't hurt me." I whimpered, eyes welling with fat tears. "Just stay away from me. Let me go!"

A smile appeared on his face; soft and almost concerned. I would have believed it if the gleam in his eye hadn't suggested otherwise.

"I only brought some food," he held out the bowl of what looked to be pasta, "I thought that you would be hungry."

I considered the option for a moment. "Put it on the floor and leave." I finally decided.

A chuckle filled my very being with dread. He shook his head. "Mon cher, life isn't that simple. I'll give you the food for a price."

I only starred at him, waiting for him to name his price.

"A kiss."

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	3. What Are You Doing?

**Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah**

**Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse**

**Last free chapter! I want five reviews before I upload the next chapter!**

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**We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis**

**Chapter 1: What Are You Doing?**

**Alfred: 11 ~~ Matthew: 11 ~~ Arthur: 11**

**Point of View: Alfred**

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It was late. Mattie and I had already gone to bed but I had yet to fall asleep. I was tossing and turning under the covers but was just not tired. I closed my eyes and tried to count sheep. Sometime around my sixtieth sheep I heard a crash. It was faint, as if I had imagined it. Maybe it was a ghost?

I could feel myself pale at the thought. My feet hit the floor and I took off running to find my uncle, so I could protect him from those nasty spirits of course. I roamed about the upstairs but was puzzled when I found his room empty as well as all of the others. I crept down to the first floor about to go into the kitchen when a heard a shout. I let myself be lead to the basement door; easily turning the knob and pushing open the door when I had got there.

"Uncle Francis?" I called down into the dark abyss.

Everything stilled as if caught in the act of stealing the last cookie from the jar. "Yes, Alfred?" I heard the reply.

And my bad habit just had to rear its ugly head. "What are you doing down there? Why aren't you in bed? I can't sleep. Uncle Francis, where's Arthur?"

There was a quiet hiss and some shuffling about. Uncle Francis appeared through the dark. "He's right here, Alfred."

I peered down to find haunting green eyes staring at me; cloudy, as if lost deeply in thought. I sighed, maybe I could get some sleep now knowing that my new friend was safe. I had wondered where he had been at dinner, but uncle told me not to worry.

"What were you doing in the basement, uncle? Is Arthur ok?"

"You never stop asking questions do you? Alfred, it's late and you need to be in bed."

I was thoughtful for a moment before blurting out, "Can Arthur sleep in my room tonight?"

**OK I know we can do this! Just five reviews! Here's a preview of the next chapter!**

Chapter 4: Why Can't I Sleep

It hadn't occurred to me to question when I had gotten into the basement nor how the blood running down my face and into my eyes had come from not even did I wonder where my shirt had gone. But that's not entirely true. It hadn't occurred to me because it couldn't; I was far too wrapped up in the events going on around me. Francis was looming over me, at least ten times taller than I remembered.

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	4. Why Can't I Sleep?

**Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah**

**Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse**

**Alright guys! Thanks for the reviews! This is the last chapter I have written out fully.**

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**We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis**

**Chapter 1: Who's That?**

**Alfred: 11 ~~ Matthew: 11 ~~ Arthur: 11**

**Point of View: Arthur**

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I could have hugged the boy. Buried my head into his shoulder and wept 'thank you's. He had no idea what he had just done. I watched Francis give a small nod. I just barely caught the end of a smile as I was dragged up the stairs into the lad's room. A red light on the dresser projected stars about the room that moved as the cover turned. It was just bright enough for me to make out the shapes of the posters on the wall and knick knacks on the dressers. More than once, I stubbed my toe on the way over to the bed. He pushed down the covers and hopped into it but I stood there motionless.

"Aren't you coming to bed?" he asked holding the covers up for me. "If I was any bigger there wouldn't be any room for us both but we can share it for now."

I only shuffled awkwardly. I didn't know him. I didn't know any of these people. I didn't know what was going to happen to me. Would I still be alive in the morning? Would I ever get out of here? Even if I did get out of here, would I ever see my family again? What if I didn't die but something happened that was equally terrible? Maybe I'd be abused. Not by the boy, of course, but by the older man downstairs. I couldn't help but to think back to what had occurred in the basement. When I refused to kiss him, he had gotten angry and had thrown the bowl. I found myself hoisted into the air by the front of my shirt. I had clawed at his hand and aimed kicks at him. My green eyes must have been wide with terror and wet with tears that threatened to break free. I could still feel his hands on me. The sting on my cheek when he raised his hand against me. The tugging on my clothes. His words spoken in a hushed tone like nails piercing through my skin.

"Arthur!"

My head shot up. How long had he been calling me? I looked stupidly.

He tugged at the covers. "Are you getting into bed?"

I nodded, not wanting anything stupid to fall out of my mouth. He tossed the covers over me, which I pulled forward gratefully, before his head hit the flattening pillow. My choppy blonde hair scratched against the soft surface as I laid my head down in a much more graceful manner. My eyelids slipped downwards covering the pair of emeralds. The only thing I had left of my family.

It hadn't occurred to me to question when I had gotten into the basement nor how the blood running down my face and into my eyes had come from not even did I wonder where my shirt had gone. But that's not entirely true. It hadn't occurred to me because it couldn't; I was far too wrapped up in the events going on around me. Francis was looming over me, at least ten times taller than I remembered.

I tried to run but found that the ground had crumbled away in front of me. As I turned, I found it had fallen away there too. Stranded on a small area of concrete, I fell to the floor and finally, the dam burst open. My tears made him grin wickedly as he strode over to me. I was going to die, I knew it.

"Arthur."

It wasn't Francis' voice. It was evident by the way the smirk fell from his face. I felt pride well in the pit of my stomach as I watched him back away. Warmth spread through my veins like wildfire. Warmth and security. Like being held in the arms of someone you love.

At that moment, I knew that if anything were to happen that I would be safe. I would know what to do.

**Ok, so I have to write the other chapters but I would like another 5 reviews before the next chapter comes out! Thank you!**

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	5. Why Don't You Answer Me?

**Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah**

**Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse**,** Arthur whumpage**

**Seven reviews instead of five thank you guys so much! Longer chapter this time. So many questions...**

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**We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis**

**Chapter 5: Why Don't You Answer Me?**

**Alfred: 11 ~~ Matthew: 11 ~~ Arthur: 11**

**Point of View: Alfred**

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My mouth opened wide in a yawn while I rubbed at my eyes with the back of my hands pushing my glasses up my nose in the process.

"Didn't you sleep well, Alfred?" my uncle asked smiling as he set the plate of pancakes down in front of me.

I quickly drowned them in syrup and butter. "Nah, I'm just a bit sleepy." I answered shoving a pancake into my awaiting mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." I just barely heard Arthur mutter next to me.

I stared at him out of the corner of my eyes. I could still see the shiny remains of the tear tracks from his eyes and running down his nose. Of course I hadn't slept well last night; how could I of? I had for about an hour or so until I woke up to the sound of sobbing. What's a hero supposed to do in that situation? So –despite the consequences that might arise- flipped over tossing my arm over the smaller boy's torso and pulling him towards the center of the bed, closer to me.

"Arthur." I didn't know what I was going to say, but my mouth did apparently. "If… if you ever need any help –with anything- just yell. I'm the hero. It's my job to protect everyone."

Another pancake was shoved into my mouth. I hadn't been able to sleep after that. I had gotten him to calm down but my mind had only just sped up. I had more than my usual million questions, and these one required answers.

"We're going out shopping for school clothes today." Francis' voice tore me away from the young Brit, who was busy poking at his food in disinterest. "Arthur can house sit for the day, won't that be nice?"

"Doesn't he have to get school clothes too?" Mattie asked making sure to swallow his pancakes first.

Uncle shook his head. "Arthur is going to be homeschooled. I'll make sure he learns everything he needs to."

Arthur choked on his food. I gently hit his back was he coughed and sputtered. He nodded at the 'are you alright?'s he got from me and Matt.

"Why don't you and Matthew get ready to go? We'll clean up down here."

I hesitantly nodded and headed upstairs, my brother not far behind. I hadn't gotten to say goodbye to my new friend before we left. I could tell the frequent questions were getting on Francis' nerves by the end of it.

Beginning in the car ride.

"Where's Arthur?"

"He's at home."

"No, I mean where was he when we left?"

Francis shrugged. "Around."

"Why is he staying with us?"

"Would you like him to leave?"

"No, Uncle Francis."

"How long is he staying with us?"

"I don't know, Alfred."

And continuing in the mall.

"Why is he so skittish?"

"That's a very big word for you, Alfred, I'm proud of you."

"Will he be alright at home alone for so long?"

"Hurry up, there's a sale."

"Is he from Britain?"

"Ask him yourself."

And it didn't stop until we parked in the driveway.

"Can Arthur stay in my room again?"

"If it will get you to stop talking."

I made for the door but was stopped. "Take your new clothes into the laundry room and cut the tags off for me. You as well, Matthew."

I had waited until I was sure that uncle couldn't hear us before turning to Matt. "I think something's wrong." I confessed.

He gave me a confused look. "People don't just show up at other peoples' houses and stay there, Matt. We don't know anything about the connection between uncle and him."

"Alfred F. Jones!" Matt squeaked, "Just what are you saying?"

I cut off a tag quickly. "I don't know, Matt, I really don't." I shook my head, "Am I just over thinking things?"

Matt nodded quickly. "Of all the times you choose to over think something."

We laughed and quickly changed the topic. We were almost done with remove the tags when I heard a soft call.

"A-Alfred?"

I perked up instantly. I had been anxious about getting back throughout the trip, and it only increased when I hadn't seen Arthur when I walked in the house.

"Hey Art- what happened?" my eyes widened seeing the blood around his wrists.

I grabbed him gently and rushed into the upstairs bathroom. I pulled his wrists under the faucet and turned the water up all the way. He gasped in pain and tried to pull away from the stinging sensation but I kept his wrists locked in place.

"Geeze, what happened?" I asked watching the red liquid flow down the drain.

He shook his head. "I don't know, I don't remember." He cried frantically.

I waited until the red had died down into a dull pink. Arthur's wrists had grown numb from the cold water helping to ease the stinging pain they had begun with. I let go of his arms slowly, as if he would flee as soon as he had the chance, and rummaged through the cabinets to find a roll of bandages. Carefully, I wrapped both wrists and tied off the bandages.

"Hey," I grabbed his chin forcing him to look me in the eye, "What happened isn't important at the moment, we can figure that out later. Are you alright?"

I was surprised when he wrapped his arms around my midsection and shook his head. "I just want to go to sleep and end this day. Get something to eat and go to bed. That's all I need right now."

I nodded; it had been a long day.

"And um… could you possibly stay with me? I don't want to be alone at the moment." He added in a softer voice that forced me to strain my hearing.

"Sure, I can do that."

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	6. What Am I Missing?

**Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah**

**Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse**,** Arthur whumpage**

**I'm not very fond of this chapter, it's kind of a filler. I'll write the next one and post it as soon as I can.**

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**We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis**

**Chapter 6: What Am I Missing?**

**Alfred: 11 ~~ Matthew: 11 ~~ Arthur: 11**

**Point of View: Arthur**

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The second that Alfred and Matt walked away from the table and into their rooms, I ran. I could hear Francis close behind as I desperately pulled at locked windows and doors.

"No! No!" I shouted frantically trying to unlock a door with trembling hands.

His hands wrapped around me and covered my mouth. I flailed in his grasp as he lifted me off the floor. I knocked over anything I could reach trying frenziedly to get the attention of anyone. I was dragged into the basement, over to the metal beam in the middle of the room.

As soon as he took off the hand that covered my mouth, I screamed, "Help me!" He grasped my wrist tightly and snapped a metal cuff around it.

I struggled but he grabbed my other wrist. I was slammed up against the beam, my arms stretched out before me as my wrists were cuffed together. I pulled against the restraints and shook my head to avoid the piece of cloth Francis was trying to wedge between my lips. He tied it behind my head tightly forcing my jaw open as it slipped into my mouth. He left me down there, alone in the dark musty cellar. The metal cut into the skin on my wrists sticking to my skin as it ran down my arms and dripped to the floor.

Within the hour, I found myself weak and fatigue. The pancakes I had eaten had been the first food I had consumed since I was brought here. It hadn't been enough. I crumbled to the floor, eyes tear-filled as I rested my head against the pillar. My breathing was ragged and heavy. I wasn't sure how much time passed as I waited for their return. Well, Alfred's return. His return and the small amount of freedom that came with it.

The second that Francis returned and released the handcuffs, I bolted up the stairs. I went from room to room looking for the blonde I had grown close to. He wrapped my wrists in bandages.

I wrapped my arms around his waist. Of course I wasn't alright. I just wanted to be held and told that everything was going to be okay. And Alfred did just that.

**Begin time skipping! GO!**

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	7. Why Am I So Worried?

**Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah**

**Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse**,** Arthur whumpage**

**There we go, a better chapter!**

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**We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis**

**Chapter 7: Why Am I So Worried?**

**Alfred: 11 ~~ Matthew: 11 ~~ Arthur: 11/12**

**Point of View: Arthur**

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"You're beautiful, you know that?" Francis ran his thumb over my cheek.

I turned my head away in disgust. Alfred and Matt had left for school in the morning, the door had closed and I found myself once again cuffed to the beam in the basement. Francis had been busy running his hands all over me as he complimented how beautiful I was or criticized my giant eyebrows. I wanted to puke. To run away and never look back.

"Please," I begged, "stop!"

"So beautiful." My kidnapper weaved his fingers into my hair. "But the boys would never forgive him if I touched you. I have to get rid of the temptation."

His fist collided with my face and I cried out in pain. That day I had been lucky, only gaining a black eye from the abuse. School days went on like this. The abuse that covered my body in bruises and scratches saved me from the abuse that would destroy me from the inside out. I got used to being bombarded by questions from Alfred and even the occasional question from Matt. Each question was answered with a vague answer such as falling down the steps or something stupid such as that. Even Alfred didn't buy the stories but I was thankful that he didn't press the issue. He simply held me comfortingly as I cried and let me stay in his room. I found that as the school year went on more and more sick days were taken by the golden haired boy. He would cough and talk in a funny voice as if his nose was clogged however I couldn't find any signs of a fever.

I wasn't unhappy whenever he took the sick days. Overjoyed truly. It was a day that Francis couldn't touch me. But I felt guilty. He shouldn't have been missing his education just because of me. I had even brought the issue up to him.

"You should be going to school, not skipping like this." I said.

He looked at the ground. "Why not?" he countered.

I could already see myself losing this argument. "Because-"

"Because why? Because I need to keep my grades up so I can go to college?" it came out as a sort of growl.

I flinched and unfortunately, he noticed.

"Sorry." He apologized softly and headed out of the room.

That night, he had pulled me against him. "I thought it over and I'm not sorry. You're much more important than any grades."

I became depressed when April rolled around. I wondered if my family even remembered me. What were they doing that day? Did they even want to remember me? Alfred had caught me that day; I had found a piece of paper and a broken crayon. I began drawing a birthday cake with a single candle on top.

"I wish to be free." I whispered.

"Is it your birthday?" I spun around to meet the bright blue orbs. "Stay here."

He returned a moment later, two chocolate chip cookies in hand. I devoured mine, savoring the sweet taste that I had missed so much.

"How about I fulfill that wish of yours?" I hadn't known that he had heard me.

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	8. What Do I Do?

**Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah**

**Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse**,** Arthur whumpage**

**Long chapter this time. Finally, we get to skip about time. And things are finally starting to really heat up.**

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**We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis**

**Chapter 8: What Do I Do?**

**Alfred: 11 ~~ Matthew: 11 ~~ Arthur: 11/12**

**Point of View: Alfred**

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It started on the first day of school, the second I walked through the front door I could just tell. The air was thick and my stomach filled with dread. I was greeted by Uncle Francis but ignored him in favor of kicking off my shoes and going to my room as fast as possible.

"Arthur!" I shouted throwing open the door.

My eyes widened at the sight of the black eye. He raised his hand to cover it quickly but it was too late, I had already seen it.

"What happened?" I pulled his hand away.

He turned his head away from me. "Nothing, I was getting something out of the cupboard and misjudged the distance between myself and the door. That's all. I'm fine."

Of course, I didn't believe him. So I asked Uncle Francis about it.

"How did Arthur get a black eye?" I asked.

He gave me a questioning look. "Black eye? Mon Dieu! Is he alright?"

I nodded and walked away. If no one was going to tell me I would stop asking, but I would keep a better eye on things from now on. As the school year went by, I found the occasional bruise or scratch become more frequent as well as the times when I would hold him as he cried into my shoulder. It was one of those nights when everything came crashing down on me. It was late September, Arthur had curled up so that his head was on my thigh and his knees were close to his chest. It had been late, about an hour since the Brit had cried himself to sleep, and since I wasn't tired, I turned on the small television that only got a few channels. I flipped through them looking for any good movies or shows and just as I changed the channel, the battery in the remote died.

I groaned, glaring at the news lady with the annoying voice. With one hand I rummaged through my nightstand drawers while I kept focused on the news out of curiosity. I stopped almost immediately. I couldn't believe my eyes. There, on the television, was a picture of the very same boy who was sleeping on my leg. I found the batteries and popped them in before turning up the volume.

"It's been one month since Arthur Kirkland has disappeared. Tonight, his family returns to their home in the United Kingdom. We're live at the airport, Donald."

"We'll thank you Karen, I'm standing with the Kirkland family now. They're going to be boarding in just a few minutes." He shoved the microphone in some teenager's face with pale blonde hair. "What do you think about all this?"

"I… umm… well…" He sputtered.

"Don' ya t'ink 'at 'e've 'ad enough?" the camera turned to an elder boy with fiery red locks and piercingly cold blue eyes. "Ya Americans are annoying, sticking yer noses were they don' belong. Git yer cameras outta our faces."

The scene changed back to the annoying news anchor lady. "Well, that older brother of his has a bit of a temper doesn't he? Police will continue to search for the missing boy but for now, we can only hope that wherever Arthur is he is safe."

I shut off the TV and looked down at Arthur. This couldn't be true… it simply… made a lot of sense actually. Did Uncle kidnap him? Just the possibility had opened up a whole new window of questions. Had he kidnapped anyone else? What if Mattie and I had actually been kidnapped by him? Where were our parents? Was he even our real uncle?

I pulled the covers over Arthur and me, knowing that there was no possibility of sleep tonight. His sleeping face looked so peaceful, free for the moment. I wondered what had occurred during his stay here. Was Francis responsible for all of the wounds that had been appearing on Arthur's skin? I pulled him close, not wanting to even think about it at the moment. I would keep him safe until he had a chance to escape.

To do so, I found myself skipping school. Feigning sickness whenever his injuries were at their worst. Arthur could tell when I really wasn't sick; he'd shoot me a questioning or knowing look sometimes but I'd only smile back.

During April, I had walked in on him while he drew what looked to be a birthday cake. I leaned against the doorframe and just watched as he childishly blew on the candle that wouldn't go out.

"I wish to be free." I had barely caught it.

I frowned, saddened by the memory that he was a captive here. Quickly, I threw on a smile. "Is it your birthday?" He jumped, "Stay here."

I had returned with two chocolate chip cookies in hand. I watched in slight amusement as his emerald eyes lit up. "How about I fulfill that wish of yours?" I offered once both our cookies were gone.

He nodded rapidly. "Follow me." I tip toed down the stairs making sure to close my bedroom door.

I pushed him behind the wall and told him to stay put and stay quiet. "Uncle Francis, I'm going to bed now." I announced into the living room.

"Would you like me to tuck you in, mon cher?" he offered but I declined, "Alright then, goodnight, Alfred."

"Goodnight Uncle Francis." I started on our journey again; praying that with each step I took the floor wouldn't creek.

It seemed like forever before we reached the back door. I opened it just enough so the two of us could get out. Arthur bolted off the porch and into the grass. The wind pulled back his hair and caught on his clothes. I ran after him, easily catching up to him in his weakened state. This was foolish of me. He couldn't leave now, he wasn't ready. He'd probably die before he got anywhere.

"Arthur, stop!" I yelled only to watch as he crumbled to the ground.

I hurried over to him. "I-I have to… I can't stop now. I'm so close." Fat tears were in his eyes.

"I… I know, Arthur." I admitted, "I know almost everything."

He looked up at me with wide wild eyes. "You knew? You knew and you didn't do anything? Alfred, I thought you were my friend here. I thought you actually wanted to help me! To be a hero like you always go on about!"

"Let me see your ankle." I tried to change the subject.

"No, Alfred. Don't touch me. Stay away from me!"

I shook my head. "You don't understand." I said quietly, "I want to help, I really do but," I looked him over, just skin and bones really, "you can't do this now."

He shouted at me, "I can! I can and I will!"

"No, Artie. You can't." I persisted, "Just look at yourself, you're skin and bones! How far do you think you're going to get? The edge of the woods maybe? How long will you be lying on the ground until something comes and makes you its dinner? How far are you going to get with that ankle? I can see it's swollen from here."

"But I have to."

I held my arms open. "Please, wait. Wait until we can think of a better plan than this. Let me help you."

I ended up carrying him back. His ankle twisted and in desperate need of ice. Unfortunately, Francis met us at the door.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" he asked, voice full of knowing contempt.

I shrugged, "Nothing. Thought we saw a shooting star and we wanted to make a wish."

Francis raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Really now? Well, why didn't you take Matthew with you? It's not good to leave him by himself for long." He kept talking as I got an ice pack from the freezer. "He's always been accident prone. Be a shame if while you were out going for a run, something serious happened and you weren't there to help him."

I slammed the door shut. "Don't you dare lay a finger on him!" I growled, "If anything happens to him, I'll kill you, you son of a bitch! You god damn asshole! How dare you even think about it! You're a no good mother-"

"Alfred?" I heard the soft voice behind me, "Why are you screaming at Papa?"

"Don't call him that, he's our uncle not our father." The affectionate nickname Mattie had given our uncle suddenly made me sick. "Come on, Mattie. Let's go to bed."

I didn't spare a look back at the bastard. I'm sure if I had seen the smirk he was wearing, I would have killed him, right then and there.

**HE KNOWS! FINALLY! Sorry for getting everyone's hopes up by almost letting Arthur be free. Hopefully, I didn't crush it too badly... It needs to be repaired a bit before I crush it again :D**

**I'm not a sadist...**

**This finding out happened a bit eariler than I thought. Alfred wasn't supposed to know until he was 15... oh well...**

**Can I possibly get ten reviews for the next chapter? I have faith in you bros! I know you can do this! **

**-needs more time to write and figure out what's going on-**

******Review, alert and fav please**!


	9. Why Did I Do That?

**Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah**

**Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse**,** Arthur whumpage**

**And the chapters go downhill again...**

**Warning: Ranting at the end of this whole thing.**

* * *

**We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis**

**Chapter 9: Why Did I Do That?**

**Alfred: 15 ~~ Matthew: 15 ~~ Arthur: 15**

**Point of View: Arthur**

* * *

I don't know how much longer I could put up with this. I don't remember much of that night for I was half asleep in Alfred's arms. I wish I had been more awake though, because after that day everything changed. Alfred wasn't there when I woke up, he wasn't downstairs at the table eating breakfast with Matt either. It wasn't until that evening when I saw him again. He was quiet, only nodding or grunting whenever I talked. From that day, things only got worse. Francis became more violent even pulling me into the basement even when Matt and Alfred were home.

Francis had been acting odd one day, more than usual. He kept looking out the windows and shutting the curtains. Alfred was up in his room, I was heading up to his room when Francis stopped me. He didn't say anything, only stepped in front of me. I opened my mouth to talk but was stopped. He slapped me across the face.

"I'm done with you." Francis grabbed onto my upper arm, "I can't deal with this anymore. The anxiety is too much."

I cried out as he tightened his grip and from his back pocket produced the gun that he had first used to kidnap me.

"A-Alfred…!" I called out for help as he cocked the gun.

"Alfred!"

He shot, I felt the bullet tear my hair as it whizzed by me. I was dazed, the loud noise momentarily deafening me.

"ALFRED!"

He was in front of me in a second. The gun knocked out of his hand and onto the floor.

He turned to me. "I'm real sorry, Artie." He helped me up. "That shouldn't have happened."

"Just hold me, you idiot!" I jumped into his arms.

He lifted me from the floor and carried me to the room we shared. I don't know what got into me at that moment. Maybe I realized that life was fleeting, that near death experience filling me with adrenaline. I pressed my lips against his. And I felt him press back.

***Takes deep breath***

**So I hit the wall of writers block with last chapter and I'm so upset becuase I have no idea what I'm doing anymore. I wanted ten comments because I thought it would take a while but no! I woke up this morning and had 11 new reviews. No time to think about what was going to happen. So while I'm struggling with this and trying to figure out everything thats going I have homework that I have to do before wensday. I need to work on To Be You which I've also hit a wall on. So I'm going to throw on Toy Story 3 and do my homework. Probably some sarcasm will be thrown in.**

**Emerald, I thought about about Arthur being sexually abused by Francis but I don't know, I might try but I'm too shy to really post anything and too nervous.**

**-Sees spanish comment- ...damn... French lessons can't help me here... To Google Translate!**

**Ah, I understand now...**

**Erelbrile, Arthur doesn't really have the strength to anywhere. Even If Alfred carries him, it's last april and too cold to walk all the way. He doesn't want to call the police on his uncle either. And on top of that, Alfred doesn't really want Arthur to go...**

**I'm off to do homework now. Please review to keep me going, ideas would be wonderful as well as thoughts.**

**Review, alert and fav please!**


	10. Quick question I'M SORRY

**Sorry author's note. But I'm out of writer's block. Quick answer the question in a review!**

**Should Francis sexually abuse Arthur and should I change the rating?**

**There should be an update comming up soon I promise. I'm really sorry for the wait!**


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